


June Weddings and Fields of Marigolds

by pouty_hoseok



Series: Songfics [12]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Airplane Crashes, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Car Accidents, Cats, Crying, Domestic Fluff, First Kiss, Flashbacks, Fluff, Heartbreak, Heavy Angst, Hospitals, I Made Myself Cry, I'm Sorry, It's just really sad, Kim Hongjoong is Whipped, Kim Hongjoong-centric, Kissing, Loss, M/M, Marigolds, Marriage Proposal, Men Crying, Reminiscing, Sad, Soft Kim Hongjoong, Songfic, Wedding Planning, Wedding Rings, a lot of crying, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:54:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26885458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pouty_hoseok/pseuds/pouty_hoseok
Summary: Hongjoong finds Seonghwa in a field of marigolds.
Relationships: Choi Jongho/Kang Yeosang, Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Series: Songfics [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1599289
Comments: 28
Kudos: 67





	June Weddings and Fields of Marigolds

**Author's Note:**

> it sounds a lot cuter than it is

[ _ Youth _ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VYC29lbq8SY)

Hongjoong sighs and stares out the window, his head leaning against the glass. The house is empty and he has yet to grow used to it. Outside, lightning flashes and thunder booms loudly, though Hongjoong remains still. Hwaseong’s warmth is nice and he enjoys the feeling of her fur beneath his skin, though he’s looking for something else right now. The driveway remains empty, though, and Hongjoong doesn’t see anyone running up to the front door, his bag held over his head as he attempts to protect his suit and hair from the heavy rains that attack them. He doesn’t even see any headlights headed toward the house and Hongjoong’s heart aches. 

_ He’s not coming, _ he thinks.  _ He’s never coming back, not for a long time, at least. Stop wasting your time. At least wash the dishes, it’ll be nice for when he  _ does  _ get home.  _

Hongjoong sighs heavily before dragging himself to his feet. The kitchen sink is piled high with dirty dishes, yet another reminder of the house’s emptiness. The messiness of the place is unusual and unnatural since Seonghwa is such a neat freak. Hongjoong looks around and watches as Hwaseong pads off. She’s long since stopped looking for Seonghwa, and Hongjoong wishes he could be more like his cat. Seonghwa’s been in the hospital for at least a week now, stuck in some awful, comatose state where he’s barely alive. It was a surprise that he even survived after what happened, and no one expected him to hold out for this long. He’s been in a coma for, well, as long as he’s been in the hospital, having been hit by a drunk driver while walking out to get his car. 

He sighs yet again and goes to rummage through the fridge. Leftovers that could probably get him sick (they’re almost definitely from last week) sit before him and Hongjoong grabs them, shaking his head. He ate the food Seonghwa cooked last week far too fast and now he’s missing the taste of it since there’s no food that could ever recapture the taste of his cooking. Everything lacks flavor now and Hongjoong isn’t quite sure what to think of it anymore. He doesn’t really know  _ how _ to think anymore, though, so he supposes it shouldn’t come as a surprise. 

Hongjoong curls up on the couch and begins to eat, staring at the blank TV screen. He pauses every so often to turn and look out the window, checking for a person who won’t ever come because he’s lying unconscious in a hospital, and there’s absolutely nothing Hongjoong can do about it. 

Hwaseong mrows at him and leaps up onto the couch. She butts her head against his hand and Hongjoong puts the food down, the shaking of his hands making it too risky for him to be holding anything. Seonghwa hates stains on his couch. 

His cat rubs against him again and then, before he can even process what’s happening, Hongjoong has tears streaming down his cheeks. Hwaseong nuzzles him and Hongjoong only cries harder, surprising himself because he swears he lost all of his tears the last time he visited the hospital and sat in that empty room, the silence only ever disrupted by the angry and obnoxious beeping of Seonghwa’s heart monitor. 

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong whispers. He clutches his chest and curls up, resting his chin on his kneecaps as he cries. “ _ Seonghwa _ .” 

Usually, if he was to start crying, Seonghwa would come over and wrap his arms around Hongjoong, tugging him into his lap and nuzzling him. But Seonghwa isn’t here and Hongjoong is alone in this empty house, left to wonder what happened to him and why his luck is so awful. 

Hongjoong lets his head fall back and he shuts his eyes, his chest rattling as he exhales slowly through his nose. His chest is heavy and he needs to get up, he needs to go and take a walk or  _ something _ to calm down because his mind is running away with him and Hongjoong has to stop it or else he’ll be here for much longer than he’d like to. He should at least call someone and talk to them, someone like Mingi or Yunho or Wooyoung or San or Yeosang or Jongho. Just  _ someone _ so they can calm him down before he loses it again. 

But Hongjoong doesn’t call anyone and he instead lies on the couch and shuts his eyes as his tears continue to pour. His breathing gets short and choppy and he somehow ends up in his and Seonghwa’s bed, his face pressed into Seonghwa’s pillow as he greedily tries to fill his mind with his scent. Seonghwa’s bottle of his favorite cologne sits untouched on their dresser, waiting for the return of its owner. Hongjoong has forced himself to stay away from it and it feels as if he’s starving himself by doing it. Seonghwa’s scent is beginning to fade and he’s becoming nothing more than a ghost, only wandering thanks to Hongjoong’s memory. 

He sighs and presses his face further into Seonghwa’s pillow. It smells more like his tears than it does the owner himself, but Hongjoong will take what he can get. 

Slowly, warily, Hongjoong falls into a light sleep. He wakes up and feels as awful as he usually does, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands as he looks around the empty room. Hwaseong meows at him and he hums in response before dragging himself out of bed to go and get ready to drive out to the hospital. He puts his equipment in his bag after showering and getting dressed, feeding Hwaseong, and drinking the cold coffee he left in the pot from yesterday. It’s bitter but Hongjoong can’t bring himself to care as he grabs his coat and shoves his feet into his sneakers, slowly walking out to his car. 

He gets to the hospital and the nurses recognize him when they see him walking around, greeting him with tentative smiles that Hongjoong attempts to return, though he can’t offer much more than a grimace. He carefully pushes Seonghwa’s door open and then he simply stands there, his feet glued to the ground. 

He swallows hard. 

“Morning, Hwa,” he mumbles as he walks in and sits down. Seonghwa, as expected, remains in his comatose state, lying in his bed. Hongjoong chews on his lower lip before sighing and shaking his head. He plugs in his things where he can and begins to work, listening to tracks and editing what he has to. By now, it’s mostly a lot of instinctive work that he’s only good at because he’s memorized how it goes. His movements are robotic but easy, and for that Hongjoong is grateful. He tries to keep his focus from straying to Seonghwa, though it’s rather difficult when his eyes keep flitting toward the body in the bed. Seonghwa himself makes no noise and Hongjoong begins to block out the constant beeping of the heart monitor. A few times during the day, a doctor comes in to check on them both and he’s force-fed his lunch. Just another regular day. 

Hongjoong sighs as he takes off his headphones and tilts his laptop screen, turning to look at Seonghwa. He’s still wearing his pretty engagement ring and Hongjoong feels tears welling up in his eyes as he looks at it. Seonghwa  _ can’t _ die, he  _ can’t _ because he and Hongjoong are supposed to get married in June. So it wouldn’t make sense, would it? Not when they’ve planned out the entire wedding (nearly) and they’ve already done so much for it. Hongjoong’s own hand is heavy with his engagement ring yet he can’t bring himself to take it off. It’s one of the last fragments of hope he has to hold onto; removing it would make him feel like Seonghwa’s already dead. 

“You’re not gonna die, are you, Hwa?” Hongjoong says. He sniffles and wipes his eyes. “You - we’re still getting married in June, aren’t we? I’m gonna - I’m gonna see you on the altar and our parents will be there and we’ll both be crying because we’re so happy, won’t we? No more - no more crying be-because you’re in the hospital, right? You won’t come back here, will you?” 

Seonghwa remains silent and Hongjoong can’t even muster up the strength to imagine him telling him, promising him,  _ swearing _ to him that they’ll still get married and that he needs only a little bit more time. 

Hongjoong ends up resting his head on Seonghwa’s chest, filling his head with memories of a time when Seonghwa was awake, when he’d laugh and smile at Hongjoong, kissing him softly and holding him tightly. 

~

[ _ 모처럼 _ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nMWA8bYq71w)

“Oh, Joong, dear, don’t pick such a sad song,” Seonghwa says. Hongjoong laughs as he gets up and tries to drag Seonghwa to his feet, socks making it harder. “That’s bad luck.” 

“We fell in love to this song, though,” Hongjoong says as the music starts playing. Seonghwa snorts, shaking his head as he gets up anyway. He rests his hands on Hongjoong’s hips and presses his face into his hair, closing his eyes as they begin to sway. 

“Mm, I’d beg to differ, though I know that’ll only make you more of a brat,” he says softly. Hongjoong giggles and kisses the side of his neck, closing his eyes and resting his head against the other man’s chest. Though Seonghwa’s hands are always quite cold and Hongjoong can very nearly feel them through his shirt, the rest of him is so very warm and cozy that Hongjoong can’t keep himself from falling into his embrace.

“I love you,” Seonghwa says, whispered and soft, making Hongjoong’s heart sing despite having heard it far too many times to count. 

“I love you too,” he murmurs and Seonghwa smiles at him, tilting his chin up. His eyes crinkle in the corners and his hands are warm, and, suddenly, Hongjoong realizes that they don’t have forever and that the velvet box in his drawer is only gathering dust. 

“Wait here,” he says, suddenly dashing away. Seonghwa laughs and Hongjoong scrambles to their bedroom, opening the door in a frenzy as he grabs the box and runs back out. His socks make him slide and Seonghwa catches him before he crashes into the wall, laughing softly as he smiles fondly at him. 

“Can’t have you falling for anyone else, can we?” he says teasingly, drawing a huff from Hongjoong before he shoves him back, shaking his head. 

“Hwa, don’t be cheesy,” he says, though his words are lost when he mumbles them. He looks up and finds Seonghwa smiling at him, his gaze so sickeningly fond and warm and loving that Hongjoong thinks he might melt on the spot. 

“All right,” Seonghwa says softly. He gestures to Hongjoong’s clenched fist, his small fingers doing nothing to hide the velvet box from view. “Why don’t you tell me what you just ran off to get, then.” 

Hongjoong lifts the box and looks at it before turning to Seonghwa. The older smiles at him and Hongjoong swallows hard before he gets down on one knee. 

“Seonghwa,” he says softly, “will you marry me?” 

Seonghwa laughs and smiles at him, tugging him to his feet and leaning their foreheads together. 

“Do you even have to ask, dear?” he says as he gently takes the ring. Hongjoong whines loudly. 

“I wanna put it on!” he says and Seonghwa laughs at him again, shaking his head as he holds his hand out. The silver band fits perfectly and Hongjoong’s eyes sparkle as he stares at the diamonds on his now-fiancé’s hand. Seonghwa himself looks so very fond as he tugs Hongjoong close and kisses him so hard that all of the air leaves Hongjoong’s lungs and he’s left gasping for breath, his head spinning. Seonghwa laughs at him and closes his eyes, pressing his forehead against Hongjoong’s as he draws idle circles onto his hips. 

“God, Hongjoong,” he says softly, “you’re going to be the death of me, aren’t you?” 

~

“Mr. Kim?” 

Hongjoong blinks himself awake, rubbing his left eye with his fist as he looks around sleepily. A kindly doctor is looking at him, her clipboard pressed against her chest. 

“Yes?” he says, his voice raspy from sleep. The doctor smiles at him. 

“Visiting hours are unfortunately over, sir,” she says gently and Hongjoong hums. He stretches and sighs, looking over at Seonghwa. He’s still unconscious. 

“Okay,” he says as he gets up. He smiles at her and notes that she’s taller than he is as he packs up. “Call me if anything happens?” 

The doctor, once again, smiles warmly at him. The pity in her eyes couldn’t be more obvious. 

“Of course,” she says and Hongjoong nods as he grabs his things and heads out. His feet drag and he hates leaving Seonghwa in that empty room where everything seems to hang in the balance, waiting for one little signal. 

Mingi and Yunho storm his house that night. Hongjoong appreciates the effort because he hasn’t been eating right ever since they got the news of what happened, and the two of them are good at keeping his mind off of room 379 in the hospital that’s a twenty-minute drive from his house. 

“How is he?” Mingi says, his voice hushed as if Seonghwa is a secret. Really, though, such a thing is nearly impossible with how Hongjoong had screamed and cried and gone into a mad frenzy before breaking down in the middle of the hospital waiting room. He’d cried in Seonghwa’s room for hours, the older man’s hand clenched in his own as tears had poured endlessly down his cheeks. So no, there’s no keeping Seonghwa’s accident a secret. 

“Still in a coma,” Hongjoong says. He sighs and puts his beer down, hiding his face in his hands. “Still unconscious.” 

“How are you?” Yunho says. Hongjoong shrugs, curling up on the couch. 

“Dunno,” he says. He tries to smile at them. “It’s - I’m happier now that I’m with you guys.” 

Yunho and Mingi both smile at him, though it’s clear that they don’t believe him. Hongjoong knows they don’t; he’s past trying to make it seem like he’s okay. 

“Do you want us to sleep over?” Mingi offers and Hongjoong shakes his head. 

“No, no, I couldn’t do that to you guys,” he says. He tries to smile again, but his face twitches and he goes back to a blank expression. “Besides, I don’t want to get sexiled from my own house, do I?” 

It doesn’t have the desired effect, though Hongjoong wasn’t expecting it to. Mingi and Yunho both ask if he’s sure and Hongjoong tries to laugh as he ushers them out the door. 

Once they’re gone, Hongjoong drags himself back into bed and curls up under the blankets, shivering and crying and shaking as he tries to will himself to sleep. 

The longer Seonghwa is in a coma, the more people lose hope. Hongjoong continues to work in Seonghwa’s room, but he’s been told to try going back to work and to think about calling the wedding plans off. Hongjoong, in a very Hongjoong-like fashion (read: stubbornly), refuses to do so, insisting that Seonghwa will wake up and they’ll get married in June because he proposed and he spent so long trying to pick out a ring and hide it where Seonghwa wouldn’t find it.

“Hongjoong, will you stop?” Seonghwa’s mother demands. Hongjoong twitches in his seat and picks at his nails. The blue of his hair hasn’t quite begun to fade, though his roots are dark and black against the color. He averts his eyes. 

“He - he might still live,” he mumbles. The skin around his thumb is beginning to bleed. “There’s still a chance.” 

The woman sighs heavily and Hongjoong can feel Seong-Hoon, Seonghwa’s older brother, glaring down at him. He cowers away from the weight of the man’s gaze, trying to make himself even smaller than he already is. 

“Fine,” Seonghwa’s mother says. She sighs again and Hongjoong continues to avoid looking at any of the Park family. “Fine, you’re in charge of what happens to him. But really, Hongjoong, you’re only hurting yourself. He’s not-” her words catch in her throat and Hongjoong chances a glance up at her “-he’s not going to wake up.” 

“You don’t know that,” Hongjoong says before he can think better of it. Seonghwa’s mother stares at him and the man curls further into his seat. She and the rest of her family probably are then hit with how pathetic Hongjoong is, and he earns himself another sigh. 

“Hongjoong,” she says, crouching down in front of him and resting a hand on his shoulder, “it’s a mother’s instinct. Ask your own mother and she’ll tell you all about it. Just - just stop hoping for the impossible before you hurt yourself even more in the process, okay?” 

“I’ll see you at the wedding?” Hongjoong says instead and he looks up to see her, Seong-Hoon, and Seonghwa’s father all staring at him pityingly. Hongjoong resists the urge to break down right then and there. 

“Don’t get your hopes up, okay?” Seonghwa’s father says. He rests a hand on Hongjoong’s shoulder and seems to wince at how bony he is. “You’re a good guy, Hongjoong. Seonghwa wouldn’t want you to lose yourself to mourning.” 

“I’m not  _ mourning _ ,” Hongjoong mumbles, but the words are jumbled by the emotions weighing them down. 

Seonghwa’s family doesn’t say anything and Hongjoong stares at his feet as they leave. Only after he hears the door close does he let his tears fall. For some reason, he holds his hands out and tries to catch his tears, sniffling pathetically as he waits for someone to come and stop him. 

“Maybe you should look into a therapist or something,” Wooyoung suggests quietly.

Hongjoong doesn’t say anything as he stares blankly at the steaming cup of tea. They’re using one of Seonghwa’s tea sets, though Hongjoong can’t bear to get his favorite out. It’s pretty and made of white porcelain with marigolds painted on. Seonghwa’s favorite flowers are marigolds. Hongjoong should get him a bouquet for his room, it’s so empty. 

“Hyung?” San says, nudging his knee. Hongjoong hums, shaking himself out of his daze before looking over. 

“Yes?” he says. 

“Are you . . . seeing anyone?” he says. 

Hongjoong shifts uncomfortably. 

“No,” he mumbles, proceeding to pick at his nails again. Wooyoung clicks his tongue and rests his hand on top of Hongjoong’s, disentangling his fingers. 

“Do you want to come to stay with us? Just because it might be easier?” San says and Hongjoong shrugs as Wooyoung nods. 

Hongjoong shakes his head. 

“No,” he says. “I’ll be fine. It can’t be much longer, can it?” 

San and Wooyoung look at each other, clearly worried about him. Hongjoong, honestly, doesn’t blame them. But he still lets them out and bids them goodbye even as his chest aches and his head spins. He decides to sleep it off. 

~

“Come on, Hongjoong, get up,” Seonghwa says softly, shaking him. Hongjoong blinks himself awake or tries to, as sleep still holds him down. 

“Hm?” he mumbles and Seonghwa laughs at him, reaching forward to brush a lock of hair behind his ear. His eyes are soft and fond, warm with love. 

“I love you,” Hongjoong blurts, unable to stop himself. Seonghwa looks shocked but only for a moment as his face breaks into a smile and he throws his head back, laughing kindly. 

“I love you too,” he says and Hongjoong feels the butterflies in his stomach fluttering about. Seonghwa tugs him into his embrace and kisses the top of Hongjoong’s head, letting the younger cushion himself against the oversized sweater he’s wearing. 

“What’s with the sudden confession, hm?” Seonghwa says and Hongjoong shrugs. 

“Dunno,” he says. He closes his eyes and leans back into Seonghwa’s touch as his nails scrape over his scalp. “Just - just realized I really wanted to let you know. Oh, that feels nice.” 

Seonghwa smiles at him, leaning down to press a kiss on the side of his neck. Hongjoong sighs, snuggling closer to him. 

Seonghwa stirs him a few minutes later. Hongjoong cracks one eye open and stares at him. 

“Look, it’s only a natural reaction,” Seonghwa says. Hongjoong grunts as he shifts around. 

“Do you really get aroused every time someone touches your crotch? That’s gotta  _ suck _ ,” he teases. Seonghwa laughs and pulls him into his lap, tilting his head till their lips are almost touching. 

“Then why don’t you do something about it, hm?” he says, successfully stealing all of the air from Hongjoong’s lungs. Hongjoong gasps quietly and Seonghwa leans forward, pressing their lips together as his hands run over Hongjoong’s body. 

~

Hongjoong wakes with a gasp, clutching his chest as he tries desperately to catch his breath. His head spins and he sits helplessly in bed, sweat and tears cascading down his skin. His tongue feels dry in his mouth and he looks around, feeling painfully helpless. He reaches up and touches his lips, finding that they’re only tingling, the single remainder of his fiancé’s lips on his own. 

“Seonghwa?” Hongjoong says. The moonlight streams through the window and paints the room silver, killing the darkness. Hongjoong wishes it didn’t; he’d still be able to pretend that Seonghwa was there. 

“Seonghwa?” Hongjoong says again as his chest continues to close. “Seonghwa?” 

He’s answered with a deadly silence that has Hongjoong fumbling for his phone. And then he finds himself sitting in his living room, Yeosang making tea in the kitchen while Jongho plays with Hwaseong. 

“Thank you,” Hongjoong says softly. Jongho shrugs. His hair is sticking up and he’s still wearing his pajamas, though he looks very awake. Yeosang does as well, and Hongjoong is thankful for it. “I’m sorry for calling you at such a late hour.” 

Yeosang shrugs as he comes and sits down on the couch, handing Hongjoong his mug. 

“It’s nothing, Hyung,” he says. Jongho hums and coos at Hwaseong, running his fingers through her fur. 

“Yeah,” he says, “we don’t mind.” 

Hongjoong nods, trying to force himself to believe that. Unsurprisingly, he fails. 

“I - it’s - thank you anyway,” he says because his mouth and brain are both useless. He looks down at the cup of tea, letting the steam fog up his glasses lenses as he does. 

Jongho waves his thanks away. 

“You want us to sleep over?” he says. He checks the time on his phone and frowns. “It’s pretty late. What d’you think, Yeosangie?” 

Yeosang hums, leaning back in his seat and watching Hongjoong carefully. Yeosang’s always had this way of looking at people, of examining them and picking them apart with his eyes. It tends to make people uncomfortable, as he tends to be intimidating enough with how attractive he is and how stoic he normally is. Hongjoong remembers Seonghwa laughing to him about it, talking about how Yeosang wanted to go out with Jongho and didn’t know how to ask him while Jongho thought he didn’t like him because of it. He’s glad that they’ve gotten their relationship sorted out. It’s been years since they were all pining idiots. 

“I don’t see why not,” Yeosang says. “Hyung?” 

“It’s fine. It’s late and I don’t want you guys driving anymore, anyway. Sorry again.” He gets up and puts his cup down. “Here, I’ll show you guys the guest room.” 

Jongho and Yeosang leave the next morning, though Hongjoong can’t say he wasn’t expecting it. He waves them goodbye and promises to show up to lunch, swearing that he’ll let them storm his house if he doesn’t. 

Then, just like he does every day, Hongjoong packs up and heads to the hospital. 

“Hey there, Hwa,” he says softly as he gets to the other man’s room. Seonghwa remains in his bed, still and unconscious, though Hongjoong would be lying if he said he expected anything else. He’s not that stupid. 

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong says, taking his headphones off, “when do you want to go shopping for cake?”

Seonghwa doesn’t answer, though Hongjoong finds he’s unable to stop the words from spilling from between his lips once he opens his mouth. He goes on and on about the wedding plans and how Seonghwa is so much better than he is at these things because he’s so organized and Hongjoong just isn’t, though he’ll happily do the work while Seonghwa rests because he just wants him to be okay. And he goes on and on until he can’t think of anything else to say, Seonghwa remaining silent the entire time. 

“Hwa,” Hongjoong says, scooting his chair forward, “you’re waking up soon, aren’t you? You won’t stay like this for much longer, right?” 

_ “Let me rest, Joong-ah,” _ Seonghwa’s voice says in his head. Hongjoong hums and sighs, moving his laptop and resting his head on Seonghwa’s chest. The rhythm of his breathing at least assures him that he’s still alive and it slowly lures Hongjoong to sleep. 

~

Seonghwa’s looking at him right now and his eyes are fond and warm and Hongjoong wants nothing more than to kiss him. His heart pounds loudly in his chest as he forces himself to look away, turning to stare at the sun as it slowly sinks beneath the horizon. Seonghwa laughs softly and wraps an arm around his shoulders, tugging Hongjoong closer. 

“Thanks for coming out here with me,” he says. Hongjoong laughs nervously. 

“No problem,” he says. He forces himself to keep from scooting closer to Seonghwa. “It - it’s really pretty.” 

“It is, isn’t it?” Seonghwa says. He grins at Hongjoong. “It reminds me of you.” 

“Me?” Hongjoong squeaks, looking over. “Why - why  _ me _ ?” 

Seonghwa laughs, shaking his head before leaning against the younger boy’s shoulder. Hongjoong feels his cheeks redden at the contact and he thanks the sun for its golden rays painting both of their faces and successfully hiding his blush from Seonghwa. 

“You do know that you’re really pretty, don’t you?” Seonghwa says. 

Hongjoong chokes on air and Seonghwa pulls away, looking at him worriedly. Hongjoong hits his chest while Seonghwa rubs his back and clicks his tongue. 

“Hongjoong-ah, you have to be careful,” he tuts as Hongjoong continues to die. 

“Hyung,” he says when he finally manages to recover, “you can’t just  _ say _ things like that!” 

Seonghwa frowns at him and tilts his head as if he doesn’t quite understand. It takes a bit of time before it clicks and his frown deepens. 

“Why not?” he says. 

“Be-because it’s weird!” Hongjoong says. “I don’t know!” 

Seonghwa giggles and leans forward. 

“What, you like it too much, Joong-ah?” he purrs. Hongjoong gulps and looks away, feeling himself flush even more. 

“Maybe,” he mumbles, drawing a laugh from the boy beside him. Seonghwa throws an arm around his shoulders and tugs him even closer. 

“Oh, Hongjoong,” he says fondly, “you’re just too much.” 

“ _ You’re _ the one who’s too much, Hyung,” Hongjoong mumbles. “Making me like you with all of your flirting and being nice and smart and perfect-ness and god-like looks. Don’t tell me  _ I’m _ too much, you damn hypocrite.” 

Seonghwa’s silence tells Hongjoong that he just said that out loud. He feels fear spike through his veins as he turns to face the other boy. 

“You - you think I look like a god?” Seonghwa says weakly. 

Hongjoong nods. 

“‘Course, I do,” he says. He frowns. “Why? Did someone tell you otherwise? Don’t worry, I’ll fight ‘em.”

Finally, Seonghwa laughs again and he pulls Hongjoong close. 

“Nah, it’s fine, Mini-Hong,” he says. Hongjoong yells angrily and Seonghwa ruffles his hair before he rests his head on top of Hongjoong’s. 

“Hyung,” Hongjoong says softly after a few moments of silence. 

“Hm?” 

“Hyung, I like you.” 

Seonghwa hums again and his eyes close. He doesn’t say anything, just shifts about until they’re facing each other. He cups Hongjoong’s face and his hands are so gentle and soft that Hongjoong simply melts when he does, allowing Seonghwa to pull him close and press their lips together. 

When he pulls away, his eyes are soft and he smiles at Hongjoong. The younger’s single coherent thought is about how the sunset could never compare to the boy before him, not in a million years. 

“My God, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa says. He leans in, presses their foreheads together. “You really are spectacular.”

~

Once again, Hongjoong is woken by a doctor. He bids her goodbye and checks to make sure he’ll get called if anything happens, then he tells Seonghwa goodbye before leaving. His footsteps are heavy but Hongjoong is used to that by now. He can’t make himself care as he gets in his car and puts his head in his hands, trying his hardest to keep from breaking down in the middle of the parking lot. 

Once he manages to get himself back together (not exactly, but enough that he can sort of function), Hongjoong starts his car and drives off. November’s chill isn’t unwelcome, but it makes him think about Seonghwa. Seonghwa hates the cold seasons, yet another reason why they decided to have their wedding in June. He’s always preferred the warmer months of the year, though Hongjoong doesn’t blame him. He’s never blamed Seonghwa for anything. Not even that night. 

He parks in the garage and heads inside, toeing his shoes off by the door and hanging his coat up. Hwaseong comes out to greet him as he sits down and takes his laptop out, beginning to look through his projects. He scrolls through, his eyes glazed over as his mind wanders off without him. 

He doesn’t realize it’s raining until he hears thunder boom. Hongjoong yelps and he jumps at the sound of it, curling up on the couch. It reminds him, distantly, of the night Seonghwa never came home. It makes his stomach churn and he shakes his head, trying to dispel the memories. 

It doesn’t work, and Hongjoong soon finds himself falling back into them. 

~

Hongjoong sighs, leaning his head against the window and chewing on his lower lip. It’s raining heavily, so much so that Hongjoong can hardly even see. It doesn’t help that night has already fallen, and his stomach churns as he thinks back to his fiancé, curling in on himself. Seonghwa is still out and Hongjoong hates the gut feeling he’s getting from it. It doesn’t help that it’s their anniversary (their 5th, to be exact), and Hongjoong just  _ knows _ Seonghwa’s out going to get him something cheesy. 

But Seonghwa never comes. He was crossing the street and a driver, already drunk and driving in an awful storm, had swerved and crashed right into him. His head hit the pavement and it wasn’t long before he was surrounded by his own blood. Someone called the ambulance and it was a miracle he was still breathing, his chest rattling weakly as he’d gasped desperately for air. They’d taken him to the hospital and the driver had been arrested while someone called Hongjoong. He’d rushed to the hospital and sat in the waiting room for hours until Seonghwa came out of surgery, though there was still no promise he’d live. 

“What - what do I do?” Hongjoong had begged. 

The doctor smiled sadly at him. 

“Hope for the best and prepare for the worst,” he said. Someone had come up to Hongjoong and handed him a bouquet of marigolds. They’d still had Seonghwa’s blood on them. Hongjoong sat in Seonghwa’s room until he was forced out, though he’d begged for them to allow him to stay because Seonghwa is his fiancé and they have to let him stay with him. 

He’d been forced out anyway. 

~

[ _ imagine _ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7_rftpd0u0U)

Hongjoong’s trance is broken by the sound of his phone ringing. He picks up and his hand shakes at the thought of what the hospital could be telling him, already grabbing his coat and pulling his shoes on. 

_ “Mr. Kim,” _ the secretary says.  _ “Mr. Kim, please, calm down.” _

“What is it? Is he awake? I’m on-”

_ “Mr. Kim, Park Seonghwa has been announced brain dead,” _ she says. 

Hongjoong’s phone falls from his hand and his knees buckle beneath him. He falls to the ground and can’t force himself to pick the phone back up. His heart thunders in his chest but he can’t feel anything as he stares blankly at the front door, tears streaming down his cheeks. 

He never does make it to the hospital. And he skips the dinner he was supposed to go to and he keeps the door locked even as his friends beg for him to let them in because it’s not healthy for him to stay locked up for so long. 

Hongjoong only leaves the house when he’s asked what to do with Seonghwa. And Hongjoong wishes he knew, wishes he could say something that isn’t just nonsensical blubbering. His friends come and they sit with him in the waiting room as tears continue to pour from his eyes, tissues surrounding him as he sobs. 

“Mr. Kim,  _ please _ tell us what you want to do with your fiancé,” the doctor says. 

Hongjoong shudders and sobs again. Mingi rubs his back. 

“C’we - c’you - please,” Hongjoong says. The doctor’s shoulders slump. 

“Keep him alive,” Hongjoong gasps, finally gaining enough strength to say something coherent. “Just - wait until the heart stops beating?” 

“Sir-” a nurse tries to say, though the doctor shakes her head. She steps back. 

“Can - can I go see him?” Hongjoong says weakly. The doctor sighs and nods sadly, stepping aside. Hongjoong leaps to his feet and he scrambles toward the elevator, his friends chasing after him as he does. He presses the button frantically and then, once the doors re-open, Hongjoong races down the hall, mumbling apologies as he goes. He stops in front of Seonghwa’s door and stares, his chest clenched. 

Someone comes over and rests a hand on his shoulder. Hongjoong looks over at Mingi and his eyes begin to well with tears. 

“I - can you open the door?” he says weakly. Mingi nods and reaches around him. 

Seonghwa lies still in the bed, his heart monitor still beating. Hongjoong sits down beside him and takes his hand, rubbing Seonghwa’s knuckles with his thumbs. His hands are still so cold and Hongjoong feels tears sliding down his cheeks. 

“Seonghwa,” he whispers hoarsely and Seonghwa remains so painfully still but it’s different now because Hongjoong knows Seonghwa isn’t coming back. “Seonghwa, we were supposed to get  _ married _ , why aren’t we getting married?” 

_ “I’m sorry, dear,” _ Seonghwa says and Hongjoong can only sob more.  _ “I’m so, so sorry.” _

“Hwa, Hwa, you weren’t supposed to die so close to the wedding,” Hongjoong sobs. “We were supposed to get married, we were supposed to adopt kids, we were supposed to die  _ together _ . You weren’t - why? Why did you have to get me those stupid, stupid marigolds?! WHY?!” Hongjoong shrieks the last two questions but Seonghwa remains so frighteningly still and dead, the heart monitor now only a cruel joke, laughing at him as Hongjoong cries and shrieks and begs and weeps beside his lover. The others stand around him, maybe crying, maybe not, though Hongjoong doesn’t know and he personally can’t say he cares because Seonghwa is  _ dead _ and he’s not coming back and his heartbeat might as well be nonexistent because he’s cold and he couldn’t make it. 

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong says, dragging the word out as he cries, “you should’ve waited, you should’ve looked out, you should’ve - you should’ve gone  _ faster _ .” 

_ You shouldn’t have gotten me those flowers, _ Hongjoong thinks as he cries his eyes out, his head lying on Seonghwa’s chest.  _ You should’ve stayed late, why didn’t you stay late? Why did you have to work there, why did you have to walk there, why did you go to that shitty shop in town?  _

“It’s my fault,” Hongjoong suddenly gasps. “He went to the shop because he knows I like marigolds and he went there because that’s where - that’s my favorite shop and he was out there because he didn’t want to stay late but the traffic was bad and he got hit and it’s all my fault and I should’ve told him it didn’t matter because if I had he’d still be alive and it’s all my fault. I-”

“It’s not your fault,” a firm voice says and Hongjoong looks up to stare at San. San and Seonghwa were close, practically brothers. He remembers that because Seonghwa once told him that they’d grown up near each other and San would sneak into his room because of his family situation. “Seonghwa-Hyung - both of you couldn’t have - neither of you could’ve - could’ve known that - that the stupid driver would come and - and hit him. It’s not your fault, Hyung.” 

“He’s dead!” Hongjoong shrieks. “He’s dead and I didn’t stop him and I didn’t do anything to stop him! He’s dead, San! What do I do now? What do I do now that he’s gone and I have all of these stupid wedding plans that are never going to happen because one of the grooms is fucking  _ dead _ ?!”

“Hyung-”

“Sannie, not now,” Wooyoung says softly. San sighs and bites his lip, though Hongjoong can’t make himself feel any worse about anyone who isn’t Seonghwa. They’re all  _ alive _ . Seonghwa, on the other hand, is not. 

The wedding plans are awful. Hongjoong cancels everything and gets his money back, though it doesn’t spark even the tiniest bit of joy. Because, instead of a wedding, Hongjoong’s found himself planning Seonghwa’s funeral. 

He gets marigolds because Hongjoong knows they’re Seonghwa’s favorite flowers. Hongjoong still feels a little sick when he looks at them, though he’ll tolerate their presence for the funeral. 

Yet Hongjoong, for some reason, still keeps Seonghwa alive. He begs the doctors to let him have a few more days, though he’s told by multiple people that if he doesn’t let go of Seonghwa now then he never will. Hongjoong ignores them. 

Life has other plans, though. 

Park Seonghwa’s heart stops beating on November 7th, 2020, at precisely 4:23 a.m. His fiancé, Kim Hongjoong, hears about it at 8 a.m. on November 7th, three hours, 16 minutes, and 13 seconds later. 

The shriek torn so cruelly from Hongjoong’s throat is loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear, though it’s not like he has the presence of mind to give a fuck. And Hongjoong, in the small, logical part of his mind, can’t understand why it’s so devastating that Seonghwa’s heart isn’t beating anymore because his brain already stopped working so why on earth is he sitting in his empty bed, breathing coming far too quickly for it to be normal, tears rolling down his cheeks, crying as if the world has ended?  _ Why? _

[ _ 모처럼 (Hongjoong Cover) _ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qX-SZiTn5aU)

Hongjoong finds himself at Seonghwa’s funeral several months later. They’re inside of the church that Seonghwa’s parents picked, though they’re planning to drive out to the park where his parents wanted him to be buried. The couple bought him a park and there’s a pretty field of marigolds there. A statue of an angel with Seonghwa’s likeness was erected in the middle of it, and Hongjoong is once again reminded of how rich his fiancé’s parents are. It’s never been a problem for them since neither man ever cared about money much. 

Seonghwa’s funeral is full of hushed condolences and hugs that don’t make Hongjoong feel anything. Seonghwa’s body is cold and stiff in its coffin, but Hongjoong can pretend that he’s still alive and that he’s only sleeping if he tries hard enough. But really, Hongjoong is far from naïve and innocent; he’s seen the person he loves most mangled and broken in a hospital bed and on the news and he sat by Seonghwa’s bed and he heard those awful words far too many times to hold onto the innocence he once had. He sits down and keeps his face in his hands as tears streak endlessly down his cheeks, silent as he cries. Seonghwa’s family is here as is Hongjoong’s. Their mutual friends mill about along with a few of Seonghwa’s coworkers, though they’re fewer in number. Hongjoong rubs his eyes and remains in his little corner, hiding from the crowd. Seonghwa’s casket is open and the man is lying there, marigolds clutched in his hands. His hair is styled and he’s wearing the suit he picked for their wedding. Hongjoong finds it funny, in a bitter, twisted way, that he’s dressed in it. Then again, Hongjoong had picked it out since he’d wanted to see Seonghwa in it and Seonghwa had loved it so much. 

“Come and eat something,” Hongjoong’s mother says, rubbing his back as she sits beside him. Hongjoong stares at the crushed flowers in his hands and sniffles. 

“Not hungry,” he lies. To tell the truth, his stomach is frustratingly empty, but Hongjoong doesn’t feel like eating anything if it isn’t Seonghwa’s cooking because everything else lacks any sort of flavor and makes him want to cry. 

“Drink some water at least,” his brother says, sitting beside him and holding a cup out. “Crying as much as you are will make you dehydrated.” 

_ Was Seonghwa thirsty when he died? _ Hongjoong thinks as he stares at the little cup. He takes it and his hands shake so much that water splashes out from the sides. Hongjoong feels sick as he drinks it, finding his throat to be surprisingly dry. He doesn’t really care, can’t really, not as he sits at Seonghwa’s funeral on the day they were supposed to get married. And Hongjoong hates irony, he really does, but it seems as if that’s all that’s left for him in this life. 

Hongjoong sighs and puts the cup down, letting his head fall back as he stares at the ceiling. The church is large and Hongjoong can’t help feeling even smaller than he already does as he sits in the pews and cries. The speakers are playing their song, the one that Seonghwa warned him not to choose because it was about heartbreak. 

_ Is this my payment, love? _ Hongjoong thinks as he looks up.  _ Is this what I get for choosing a stupid song? Is that why you’re dead? Did you do it to spite me? My decisions? _

There’s no answer and Hongjoong sighs, shaking his head. The people are being ushered to the pews now and the music is slowly beginning to fade as people take their seats and prepare for the speeches. 

Hongjoong watches as people step up to the stand and cry tears for the body in the casket. The priest or whatever drones on and on and Hongjoong feels his hands twitch as he forces himself to keep from kicking him out. He clenches the papers in his hands so tightly that his knuckles are turned white, bone straining against the skin. Their friends cry when they talk and Hongjoong stares at the ground, his chest closing up with every word he hears. 

When it’s his turn, Hongjoong’s legs shake as he drags himself up from his seat. He stands at the podium as words spill from between his lips, probably nonsensical and pointless. He sees people crying as he speaks and Hongjoong wonders why; he’s only speaking nonsense. He begins to cry, though, tears sliding down his cheeks as his clear words begin to turn into loud blubbering. Someone - Mingi, probably - comes up and helps him back to his seat, rubbing his back as he does. 

And then, suddenly, they’re driving to Seonghwa’s park. Hongjoong is sitting in Mingi’s and Yunho’s car, staring blankly at his hands. 

“Would you like to stay with us?” Yunho says softly from the front seat. Hongjoong shrugs and he can hear Mingi turning around. “You should bring Hwaseong.”

“I don’t want to be a bother,” Hongjoong mumbles. 

“Oh, come on, Hyung,” Mingi says, reaching forward and squeezing his hand, “it’ll be fun. Like we’re having sleepovers every night. Remember when we were kids?” 

Hongjoong hums and nods half-heartedly, trying to seem interested because it’s not fair if he’s mean to Mingi when he’s only trying to help. 

It begins to rain and Yunho mutters a curse under his breath as he turns on the wipers. Hongjoong sits in the back, head leaning against the window as he tracks the raindrops with his eyes. The drive is around fifteen minutes or so, though Hongjoong wouldn’t know. He’s just assuming.

Seonghwa is lowered into the ground and Hongjoong stares at the casket as it slowly disappears, the shaking of his hand reflected in the movements of the umbrella clutched in his white-knuckled grip. The tears that pour from his eyes and down his cheeks come easily as the rain from the sky, soaking those unlucky enough to have lost their umbrellas. Hongjoong tosses a bouquet of flowers in as the dirt is shoveled over Seonghwa, his chest closing up as he does. 

When everything is nearly finished and the crowd has dispersed, Hongjoong sits down and stares blankly at the angel. It looks freakishly similar to Seonghwa, though Hongjoong supposes that his parents would only accept the best sculptors for their son’s grave. The marigolds around him are bright despite the rain and the storm clouds above, though Hongjoong can’t really pay them much attention. His suit is soaked and his umbrella lies nearby, long-since abandoned. Hongjoong shivers in the cold, the little stone path allowing him a space to rest. The wings of angel-Seonghwa provide some sort of shelter, though there isn’t much. Hongjoong sighs heavily and sniffles, leaning his head against the cold, smooth stone of the statue. 

“Seonghwa,” he whispers, the two engagement rings weighing heavily on the small chain around his neck. Hongjoong shivers and coughs weakly, hugging himself. “Oh, Seonghwa.” 

The statue stares down at him with its cold, blank eyes, yet Hongjoong finds comfort in it anyway. He lets himself rest and catch his breath, probably contracting some sort of illness from it. But Hongjoong doesn’t care because he’ll still be suffering from colds and minor inconveniences while Seonghwa will remain cold and dead forever. 

Hongjoong sobs loudly, though a bout of thunder blocks it out. He shakes violently, from both the cold and the cries that rack through his small frame. 

Yet, no matter how loudly he cries and shrieks and begs, Seonghwa will never come back. 

Eventually, though, someone helps Hongjoong to his feet (he’s pretty sure it’s Mingi or Yunho because he overheard them telling the others that they’ll take care of him) and he’s guided toward a car. A blanket is placed in his hands and his soaked jacket is removed. He sits quietly in the back of the car, not saying or doing anything. And let’s be honest, it’s not like he can. Every word brave enough to try and escape dies somewhere in his throat and every movement he thinks to make is paused before he can even attempt it. Mingi and Yunho are kind enough to not say anything, even as they bring him home and unlock his door to let him get his clothes and Hwaseong. Mingi chases her around to get her into her carrier while Yunho helps Hongjoong pack. 

“Hyung,” Yunho says softly, “are you going to be okay?” 

Hongjoong stops abruptly and the clothes in his hands fall. He looks over at Seonghwa’s side of the wardrobe, of the closet, of the bed, of the sink, and he wonders. 

_ Will I? _ he thinks.  _ Will I be okay? _

“I might sell the house,” he says quietly, his words nearly indiscernible. “It - there are too many memories here.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I might not, though, because I don’t know if I could handle parting with it.”

“What about his stuff?” Yunho says quietly. Hongjoong stiffens. 

“I’m keeping it,” he says. “I want it.” 

Yunho nods, offering a smile. Hongjoong tries to return it as he continues packing. He takes a few of Seonghwa’s things as well and he even prepares to grab their suitcase, though he’s hit harshly with the memories and he puts it back. 

“I’m ready,” Hongjoong says after several minutes (maybe thirty?), turning to Yunho. The younger man smiles at him and then they’re walking out. Mingi has Hwaseong locked up and he’s got a bag slung over his shoulder with all of her kitty stuff in it. He grins at them and they all walk out together, getting into the car and driving off. 

Hongjoong really does try to recover. But it’s hard, easily the hardest thing he’s ever done. Seonghwa just - he’s just not there and Hongjoong knows he was in the hospital before but it was different. There’s a sense of finality that’s come with lowering his fiancé into the ground and the two silver rings that weigh heavily on his collarbone. When he gets nervous (something that’s become a rather frequent occurrence), his hands or hand will wander to the bands and he’ll play with them, his thumb running over the silver and the jewels on top of them. It’s something he’s sure that all of his friends have noticed, though no one’s ever pointed it out. 

And somehow, as the days pass, Hongjoong manages to convince himself he’s okay. He still drives out to Seonghwa’s park and sits by the statue, updating him on everything that’s happened recently. He talks about Hwaseong, work, their friends, the house, their parents - everything and anything he can think of. He talks about how much he misses Seonghwa and how he wishes he was here, bringing up the past when he runs out of current events. He’s certain that he looks like some sort of lunatic - what with how he sits beside Seonghwa’s statue and blabbers about everything going on in his head, confessing his worries and his pains as if Seonghwa will actually respond. 

But, at the end of the day, Hongjoong has to learn to accept that he won’t. And really, even the thought of doing such a thing makes his stomach churn. He’s terrified of it, to be honest, because he’s somehow convinced himself that doing so will mean he’s forgetting Seonghwa. And he  _ can’t _ forget Seonghwa, no, because if he does then who’s going to go and read him his favorite books or tend to his marigolds or clean the park?

(Hongjoong knows he can hire people to tend to the marigolds and clean the part, but, just like with accepting Seonghwa’s death, Hongjoong is absolutely terrified. Because Seonghwa is irreplaceable for him, but, for the statue and the garden, when it comes to Hongjoong’s presence versus someone else’s, it wouldn’t make a difference. And that thought has had him waking up screaming far too many times.)

The others try to help and Hongjoong can see it. Mingi takes him out to lunch and makes sure he doesn’t spend too much time in his studio while Yunho drives him to the park when he can. San brings Hwaseong to his studio as a surprise and Wooyoung makes sure his studio fridge is always stocked with food and drinks. Jongho makes sure he stays fit and drags him out to the gym while Yeosang buys him fried chicken when he stays at the studio till the early, early hours of the morning. 

But even they can see that it isn’t enough. Hongjoong had his whole life planned out, and, with just one false step, it’s all become just a few little fragments of what it was. The person whom Hongjoong loved most is gone, buried under a sunny patch of marigolds and a statue carrying his likeness. Hongjoong can’t see what he has left; Seonghwa was his everything, and now, well, Seonghwa’s left and Hongjoong’s still here, stuck and doomed to wander aimlessly forever unless he somehow forces himself out of this slump. 

He starts going to a psychologist. He’s diagnosed with depression and anxiety and Hongjoong can’t do anything but laugh, heartbroken. He takes the papers and his hands shake as he slips them into his bag. Yunho is waiting for him outside and Hongjoong tells him he has to go to the pharmacy. And they do and Hongjoong gets his medicine, leaving it on his bedside table even though he hardly has the strength to take it. 

He sinks further into the strange sort of loop he’s been in after that. Hongjoong doesn’t know what to do with himself. It doesn’t help that he’s moved back into his house (against all of his friends’ and family members’ wishes), so he’s more alone than ever. The pills sit in his bathroom, untouched and unopened. The pictures of Hongjoong and Seonghwa and the ones of just Seonghwa are hidden, lying on their faces. His clothes are untouched, though Hongjoong has been wearing a few of his more worn and loved sweaters when things get especially hard. He doesn’t dare risk wearing them out in public - if he does, he doesn’t know how long that particular  _ Seonghwa _ smell will remain knitted into them. But he does find a jacket (one of Seonghwa’s) that he decides to wrap himself in and cautiously go out in. It wasn’t his favorite, since that’s too risky, but it’s one he wore fairly often. He doesn’t wear it often, but, when he feels like he needs some extra armor, Hongjoong will take it out and pull it on. 

Hongjoong gets bad enough that he withdraws nearly completely into his house. He goes out to get things like groceries and food for Hwaseong, though he works from home and does everything else without leaving his house. 

He also doesn’t really have a schedule, so Hongjoong doesn’t understand how anyone manages to sneak in while he’s gone. He screams and drops his groceries when the lights come on and all of his friends, plus his parents and older brother leap out from random places. The kitchen smells strongly of pork kimchi and chicken and Hongjoong feels his knees shaking. 

“What - what is this?” he says. His eyes land on the table, set for eleven people. One of the seats has a framed photo of Seonghwa. “What’s going on?” 

His mother walks over and takes the groceries, handing them off to someone else before pulling Hongjoong into her embrace. 

“We thought you could use some cheering up,” she says. Hongjoong feels his lower lip wobble and he sniffles, wiping his nose.

“You didn’t - I’m fine.” 

[ _ Hold Me While You Wait _ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=arj4BDdz6qc)

“We found some of Seonghwa’s old recipes,” Wooyoung says. He shifts in place. “We - he left them in a book and we tried to follow them. We thought you’d like having some of his food again.” 

Hongjoong bites his lip and tries not to sob. But it’s hard, really, because he swears he can see Seonghwa standing with the others if he tries hard enough, grinning brightly or maybe bonking San on the head with a wooden spoon while he’s wearing his stupid apron that says ‘May I suggest the sausage?’ with a hand pointing at his crotch that Wooyoung got him as a gag gift. 

The thought makes Hongjoong cry even harder as his mother gently guides him to his seat and helps him sit down next to the photo of Seonghwa, wiping his tears with a napkin. Everyone comes to sit down at the table and they all stare expectantly at Hongjoong. He sniffles and wipes his eyes before serving himself. His chopsticks rattle from how much his hand shakes as he brings some food to his mouth. 

Hongjoong is overcome with memories. And he falls into them, helpless and desperate. 

~

“I’m home!” Hongjoong says as he hangs his coat up. The house smells nice, like kimchi and home. 

“In the kitchen!” Seonghwa calls and Hongjoong tilts his head curiously before shuffling toward the sound of his voice. 

Seonghwa grins at him as he gets in and Hongjoong feels a smile of his own break out across his face. He walks over and wraps his arms around his boyfriend’s waist, his chin resting on his shoulder. 

“Whatchya makin’?” he says curiously. Seonghwa laughs and shoves him back. 

“Nothing if you don’t leave me alone,” he teases. Hongjoong squawks indignantly but he slinks away to sit down at the table. 

“Here you go, you big baby,” Seonghwa says as he places the food on the table. Hongjoong grins up at him and Seonghwa leans down to kiss him, smiling as he pulls away, untying his apron. He hangs it up before coming over and sitting across from Hongjoong. Hongjoong feels himself relax as they discuss their days and talk about things that don’t really matter, though Hongjoong still loves it because it’s Seonghwa and it’s hard (very nearly impossible) to be unhappy when he’s with him. 

~

Hongjoong returns to the present and finds himself to be crying yet again. He’s not nearly as silent, though, and he makes loud noises as he chews his food. It’s not the same as Seonghwa’s cooking, but, if he isn’t focusing enough, he can pretend it is. That, coupled with the memories and how loved he must be for his friends and family to band together to do this, is what makes him cry. 

But poor Hongjoong still can’t get over Seonghwa’s death. He struggles like a fish out of water, unable to keep up with the world as it spins. And he tries, he really, really does try because he really wants to be okay if not for himself than for Seonghwa and all of the people who care so deeply about him. He tries really, really hard to get better. He goes to his psychologist and he takes his pills and he acts happy and he tries not to think about Seonghwa. 

So why, oh, why is Hongjoong still so heartbroken? Why does he still cry himself to sleep, why does he still wake up screaming Seonghwa’s name, why does he still keep their pictures turned over when he’s at home, why does everything he writes still have to be about loss? Why isn’t he getting better? Why does he still think of Seonghwa when he’s awake and then he dreams of him even when he makes a conscious effort to keep the thoughts of his dead fiancé in the back of his head?

“There are multiple stages of grief, Hongjoong-ssi,” his psychologist, a kind man named Namjoon, says. “It really hasn’t been that long since your fiancé died, so there’s no reason for you to expect that you’d still be alive.”

Hongjoong chews on his lower lip and nods. Namjoon smiles at him just as the little bell rings and Hongjoong gets up. 

“Thank you, Dr. Kim,” he says, bowing. Namjoon nods and guides him out the door, waving goodbye to him. Hongjoong waves back and then he walks out, filling out the paperwork he has to when he stops at the front desk. 

Without Seonghwa, his life is a strange sort of mundane that he can’t quite explain. Hongjoong feels like he’s stuck in a loop, doing what he has to without question, though he never seems to feel anything. It’s a weird sort of limbo he’s stuck in, and Hongjoong wishes he could escape it. He wants desperately for something to happen, yet life seems to have left him with an empty slate. And, for the first time ever, Hongjoong doesn’t know what to write. 

He decides to fly out to Jinju. He brings Hwaseong to Jongho and Yeosang the day before his flight, then he heads back home and packs. He doesn’t bring much - just some clothes, his toiletries, a few books, his laptop and headphones, a journal, a pencil case, and a picture of Seonghwa to take with him. On his way out, he ends up grabbing Seonghwa’s video camera. 

Jinju is nice. Hongjoong takes pictures of the things he thinks he’s supposed to take pictures of only because he wouldn’t use his camera otherwise. He meets Seonghwa’s family and they talk a bit about the mundane things in their lives, avoiding the topic of Seonghwa like their lives depend on it. And it feels weird to be with his fiancé’s parents because Seonghwa is  _ always _ there, or very nearly, when they do. Hongjoong simply just doesn’t know what to do. 

He cuts his trip short and ends up going back to Seoul on Seonghwa’s birthday. April 3rd of 2021 starts out a bit cloudy, though Hongjoong and everyone else thinks nothing of it. He boards the plane and finds his seat, opening his phone and looking at the pictures he took. 

And really, Hongjoong’s choice to cut his trip short and leave early is a game-changer. Because four months, 27 days, and twelve hours after Seonghwa’s heart stopped beating, Hongjoong’s plane crashes. Clutched in his hand are the rings as tears stream down his cheeks. And Hongjoong dies in the crash. It’s not like Seonghwa, either - by the time authorities get there, Hongjoong’s body is far too mangled and there’s far too much blood for him to be alive. Surprisingly, many of the other passengers survive, but Hongjoong just happened to be unlucky enough to be one of the casualties. 

But, in another plane of reality, one in which the living are barred from, a young man opens his eyes and he finds his fiancé standing in front of him, grinning brightly as he holds his hand out. And the young man will take it as tears stream down his cheeks and a sob builds in his throat. His knees will wobble and then he’ll fall forward as he cries into his lover’s shoulder, tears staining his clothes. Yet he’ll be happy after so much sorrow and misery, and he’ll smile so genuinely for the first time in so long that his face will ache as he and his lover cry, holding each other. 

And Hongjoong and Seonghwa, in their own, slightly twisted way, will get their happy ending as they stand in a field of marigolds. 

**Author's Note:**

> i cried so much im so sorry


End file.
